Tuesday, 26 August 2014

I wonder if you know how much of you lives within me still. Since the day you uttered those beautifully winged words Words dancing in the wind clothed in the delicate breathlessness of dandelions racing each other against a summer breeze. Words spoken from lips that had mouthed, "I love you," and brought my walls crumbling down and like chamber maidens the debris lay at your feet awaiting your command. Do you know that when another holds my hand its your face I see. The smile passed on to me when you held my hand The hand would say, "I'm yours and you are mine." The smile that would reverberate, "You have nothing to fear, I am here." I sometimes wonder if you are real, What if my mind had fashioned you out of every woman's dream? You told me of our tomorrows yet today my heart is bound to yesterday's promise. Promises made by your heart to mine annointed in a bow of gratitude to your Creator only to be broken in silent solitude. "It doesn't matter," I tell myself, the presence of your shadow has taught me to console myself with lies. "We were young," I try to explain to my heart when it calls out your name in my sleep. "I have moved on," I chide my restless soul for it knows the promise. It stood witness as the words sprung forth from your beautiful heart it opened the door when your vow came knocking. "It doesn't matter, It doesn't matter." I tell my heart when I pray for you I wonder if you remember that beautiful day The day those beautiful words that now haunt my harrowed heart escaped your lips. When you lie nestled in the arms of another do you remember the words, "Will you promise to love me,only me and will you promise to let me love you and never another till the end of our days?" Candy Morrow

After a long spell of not writing or not having the courage to write rather I heard the pen speak and I had to answer.. This poem was an easy target because I'm a love addict..

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

What do I say?
Where do I begin?
I've learnt not to ask why.
I hope you'll understand 'mntase'
I know, I don't know, I live..
Its not the tears in my eye that can wash away my pain
Its your voice, your laugh, a moment of love shared
Thoughts of you linger as I count your last weeks in one hand
The prayers, the pleas, the petitions to God.

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Under the same sky We dance to the beat of love Dancing till our ankles are broken Dancing till the skies tear Dancing ourselves to the ground You on the West Me on the East Dancing till our worlds meet Dancing till the sun meets the moon For our love we dance Till our hearts beat chest to chest We dance Till we are one, We dance We dance We dance Love: Candice Morrow

Worldly Works of Wordless Wisdom Fruitless Faith in Form-Fitting Futility, Swim swiftly in the red rivers of our blood Dance, drunken on our sweat and tears. Build your house with the fruits of our labour, Raise your majestic roof with our hopes and dreams

But..

Remember my incessant pleas to The Most High

Love: Candy Morrow

Tonight Brian is hosting with a bit of abstraction, gets me everytime. Thanks to dVerse Poetsfor introducing me to Leovi, the works speak for themselves.

This beautiful fragmented glass reminds me of shattered dreams and hopes, no of our own doing but of the world’s doing.This prompt is an awakening for me, an encouragement and a reminder.Thanks again Leovi.

Saturday, 25 May 2013

If I had my way.... I'd make a friend of him. I'd like to do nothing more than to sit side by side with him watching life go by. I want to watch his movements, learn of the reason behind each smile to listen to him speak, slumber on an out-pour of his deepest, darkest secrets. I want to ask him about every work of art etched deep into his skin, stories permanently engraved on his beautiful body for the duration of his life. A light about him draws me to this seemingly dark man, maybe this is good old enigma... Even so, let it be. His eyes let escape secrets to fertile fields of knowledge-I want to know this Asian Stranger. ...but, we are governed by rules him and I. We can neither be together nor apart. Truth is, we can never be friends. All we can ever be is strangers.. ...just one last look into his curious eyes. One smile from his nervous lips. And this is what we are. All we will ever be him and I. He will forever be, My Magnetic Asian Stranger Love:Candy Morrow

Sunday, 14 April 2013

South Africa is a colourful country, and so our experiences awash in a mass of beautiful colour and wonderful memories, some relatively fantastic. Taxis are an important part of our communities and it is in these taxis that we come to know each other.I'd like to invite you to read on... A short story detailing an experience I had in a taxi on my home.

Thursday, 11 April 2013

A lawless loveWhen love is self-detrimentalWho is to blame?The need to love another mutes all sensibility,It heightens sensitivity.I’m a lover of beingsAnd lover of love,My greatest strength is my greatest weakness,Vanity the sinking sand poses as concrete.I’m of an invidious nature I suppose-

So hard it is to hold one’s own hand,Perhaps there’s reason to this madness.I’ve seen love soar to the greatest heights,Felt its whirlpool strangle me at its worstAnd so I know, this is not love.Looking for a reason with no voice,To watch it bow in submission But I know the truth, it is simple.This bears no colour of love,It wears no mask,This is no charadeI am to blame.

Sunday, 31 March 2013

I have a love for William Shakespeare that I cannot quite express.. I do wish to have met him in his time and not in my time, his time was the perfect time for him.

William Shakespeare

Sonnet 5 Those hours that with gentle work did frameThe lovely gaze where every eye doth dwellWill play the tyrants to the very sameAnd that unfair which fairly doth excel;For never-resting time leads summer onTo hideous winter and confounds him there,Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,Beauty o'ersnowed and bareness everywhere.Then, were not summer's distillation leftA liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,Leese but there snow; their substance still lives sweetSonnet 6 * a continuation of 5*Then let not winter's ragged hand defaceIn thee thy summer ere thou be distilled:Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some placeWith beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.That use is not forbidden usuryWhich happies those that pay the willing loan;That's for thyself to breed another thee,Or ten times happier be it ten for one.Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,Leaving thee living in posterity?Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fairTo be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.by: William Shakespeare

Saturday, 23 March 2013

A penning of my thoughts inspired by dVersePoets , we're having A cup of tea with Miss Marple over at the bar with Claudia.

I DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR THIS IMAGE

Er….Should I stutter by way of confession?Even now his smile seems to me like a grimace;Never had he the courage to feign a concessionHis regal spirit his worthy solace.Violent underlings guised as leadersPerched on high seats of counselDiscussing, consorting, plotting-Building a barrage against a friend to the nation;The friend’s beautiful mind his only bastion.High walls they built to keep him from the people;Walls that caged their own defeatist minds Blinded by wrath they spoke against you friend, Words that crossed rivers, watered spiritual fields;Opened a narrow eye leading to a life saved.Yes confess I shall, in timeHow oft’ I sat thinking, reasoning, questioning your motivesDigging through the depths of my bigot mind-I cannot conclude, you are too wide for my little modern form,Your invariable mind overpowers my weak thoughts.I’d like to discuss matters of faith with you,Shed a light on your path.Opinions being the abstract and life experience the focalSpeak about God in my life, tell you of the roads we’ve travelled togetherNights I lay awake, conversing with Him Only to wake to a miracle on my doorstep.I could tell you about the comfort I sought when a friend I lost,When He was my Friend and Guide;He revealed himself through words and works,Lying on a death bed I called out to Him and again, He heard my cryMy imperfect life needs no mouthpieceBut perfect peace I find in Him.Your journey was no different from that of Jesus’ disciples-In and out of prisons they buoyantly strode,Stripes on their backs bore witness to a life.They wouldn’t renege on their chosen pathNever would they forsake the ascended Gallelian;The law scorned, bribed and murdered,Barking orders from their seats of glory.Jesus was magnified even so.